


Scorpion Songs

by vyatka



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Celebrities, Gen, Musicians, lorde and florence welch make appearances by proxy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 15:53:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14312109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vyatka/pseuds/vyatka
Summary: Her popularity spread; it ate. Middle schoolers drew angel wings on themselves in red pen to seem wicked. High schoolers bleached and curled their hair, purposely leaving the roots undone.It was a phenomenon.





	Scorpion Songs

"You know, I really love your music," says the girl. Her arm is skinny and pale and extended, and her lips are shaking, like she's close to crying. 

Brown eyes flick up from where they'd been watching the scrawl of a jerky Cyrillic signature. "Thank you," she says. One corner of her tongue peeks out from between her lips. She finishes signing without flourish and hands the girl the pen. 

"Thanks," says the girl. "Um, дякую." 

Her eyebrows lift. 

"I started learning Ukrainian," the girl adds, blushing. "Um, well, thank you. For the autograph. Do you, uh - do you mind if I get it as a tattoo?" 

She smiles. "Of course not," she says. And then, because it would be unkind not to, she calls "Допобачення," as the girl's mother tugs her away. 

The girl's makeup was - interesting. And funny. Pink shadow smudged around her eyes, eyebrows darkened almost black, and her lips, which had been shaking so nervously, were pale, lightened as her eyebrows had been made dark. They were pale as her skin. It's a trend growing in young adult beauty, ever since, eighteen months ago, alternative music upsided itself with the arrival of Helena, stylized XELEHA for the cover of her breakout album, right under a picture of her own bare back, crisscrossed with angel scars. 

***

The album was called ORPHAN BLACK, and probably it was that, combined with the edgy cutting imagery and the artist name no one was sure how to pronounce just from reading it - Kseleha? Zeleya? - that had it flying off the shelves of, at first, the only places that would stock it: hipster restaurants, metaphysical bookshops, gift stores. 

And then. 

It exploded. 

It wasn't just goths who could appreciate her songs, each cryptically titled, starting with "Sister" and ending with "The Red Forget" (with three whispered interludes in Ukrainian.) Her voice was deeply rich and deeply strange, against intstrumentals that were at once surreal and, well... _boppable._ She was likened to Lorde, to Florence Welch. None of it was exactly accurate, despite what a magazine spread featuring the three of them wearing, respectively, white, black, and blue would indicate. 

Her popularity spread; it ate. Middle schoolers drew angel wings on themselves in red pen to seem wicked. High schoolers bleached and curled their hair, purposely leaving the roots undone. 

It was a phenomenon. 

And it was not just her music. XELEHA did not do interviews. Talk shows invited her to both perform and be interviewed. She always accepted the former, never the latter. She was rarely seen in public, her photoshoots were few, she had once been caught on camera breaking a papparazzo's hand, although her fan encounters were nothing but endearing. She was mysterious and talented and beautiful, which is what the media reveres, and yet she shied from media attention. Until now, that is. For whatever reason, _now_ , after the release of her second album, LIKE MY MOTHER, she had agreed to one. An interview, that is. 

"Is it true that your look" - here the interviewer made spokesmodel hands at Helena's hair and clothing - "is an homage to Stevie Nicks?" 

"No," says Helena. She's leaned forward, elbows on her knees, head craned up to look at him. "My look is mine." 

The interviewer doesn't skip a beat. When it comes to wranglers of obstinate celebrities, interviewers have to be the best. Not that Helena could be classified as that. A celebrity, at least. Obstinate? Sure. "Your look, you know - it's a pretty awe-inspiring deal you've got happening." 

Helena smiles. The camera angle swaps to behind her, where the angry etch of her wing scars bleeds visible through thin fabric. "Thank you." 

"The wings," he continues. "You've said that they're real." 

"Real cuts. Not real wings." A dent forms between her eyebrows, as if she's irritated he'd make the mistake. 

"Of course. Why?" 

"Why what?" 

"Why the wings?" he probes. 

Whether it's a sore spot or she's simply bored, Helena reaches into her shirt and pulls the microphone out, and the wires come out in a tangle. She stands and slinks to the door, and is gone. Expressionless and emotionless. There's no hostility in it. Perhaps she's just unstimulated. For whatever reason, she doesn't interview again. 

***

"I love your hair, Helena!" 

Helena's tongue peeks through her lips. "Thank you," she says. She poses for a picture, lips pressed together. 

***

At a concert, she peels off her parka - to cheers - and spins to show her scars. The crowd screams. She closes her eyes, sways, hums, and they sing with her as she begins the opening stanza of "Insect". 

She never dances at the beginning of a song; she starts out swaying, shifting, maybe swinging a leg back and forth while her hands fist in her skirt. And then it grows, and somewhere in the middle of the chorus, it crescends. She breaks loose into a wild, unflinching balter. There are parts of her music where there are neither music or instruments, just screaming, inarticulate. 

It's a quirk, if you can call it that, but XELEHA has a voice that is haunting in song and horrifying in a scream. 

Someone asks her why all of her songs have screaming in them. She sticks out her tongue and wiggles her fingers.

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine Helena's music sounds sort of like Nostalghia's: [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iQ7B0Yn7eC8) and [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mjiDeU6vGOo) especially.
> 
> I was thinking about when Grohn talked about Helena going on book tours and laughing because _like, really_ , but then I got into thinking about what Helena would actually be like, as a celebrity. And also realized that her whole LookTM would kick ass for a crypid-esque alternative singer a la Hozier or Florence. And thus this fic was born.
> 
> Please comment/kudos if you enjoyed!


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